Because it’s a real growler this one, the opening track Believer instigates a headlong charge into bozo territory – where the rest of the album happily gambols about like a herd of bullocks let into a new spring pasture.
Finally… it’s been about for a year, this record, and I kept thinking OK, I’ll review it, only to have a laugh when listening to its supercharged, guitar-driven charges and thinking, ach, it's fun to listen to, but to work up a review? But still. I do think this LP is worth your while if you’re looking for fun. Because it’s a real growler this one, the opening track Believer instigates a headlong charge into bozo territory – where the rest of the album happily gambols about like a herd of bullocks let into a new spring pasture. Yes it’s daft, (what on earth is Bats Suck about? That bats are crap?). And yes it’s another loud guitar and drums and the Philicorda is smeared over the tracks like jam on bread, but you know it’s really very, very good if you stick with it. Fine.
Two things to take on board is the tempo, it’s a jittery record, it can’t pace itself, and sometimes the tracks – especially Rainbow Black, Hot Hands, Crushed Skulls and trip over themselves in some sort of “instruments race” to the finish. Sometimes the tempo becomes some sort of physical entity, an unstoppable force to be negotiated with care whilst you listen in; as might hit you foursquare as it rushes past you… it’s a weird feeling. The other thing you can’t help but notice is the extraordinary enthusiasm the singer shows in screaming out his message, is he like this when he orders the milk? Even the more measured tracks are shredded by that throaty bawl.
Ach; it’s great fun especially blasting tracks like New and We Sell Our Souls: I’d say you can listen to this about once a week, unless you like to feel a bit shook up.